Arguments in the North

“Years, Sereg. Years” he says, pacing in front of the seated captain, “and they call it duty. It is exile.”
“Exile?” the captain questions.
“Or banishment. Or... I don’t know. I don’t have the words for it. I am not Finwe or Lassel. If I were then I would not be here would I? Instead I am. Dismissed. Forgotten.”
“Is this truly how you feel? That you have been sent away? Forbidden from ev...”
“I am not saying that saying that Sereg. Grandmother would never forbid us from the city. From her. Grandmother is not so cruel.”
“Who then? Who has banished us? Exiled us?”
“You know who I...”
“Who is so cruel? Few can give orders to me; a War Captain of House Aditu. Few can force me to summon my Gaesatae, my shield wall, to march North, to bring fire and iron, death and war where they dictate. Is it one of those few you accuse?”
“No! I would not ever...”
“Is it Amren Jelass? The War Marshal? Baradan’s chosen? Or is it First Daughter? The last child? Another? Who do you accuse nan Retan?”
“Let me speak Sereg! You would dig a hole for me to fall into and then...”
“You dig your own grave Retan. Your words are...”
“So let me finish! My words are sense! They are concern! They are the very soul of the Gaesatae!”
“ The Gaesatae? They thi...”
“That we are...”
“Wait. The Gaesatae they...”
“...abandoned! Left to rot!”
"Hold Retan! Remember you place!”
“I... I am sorry nan Sereg. Forgive me. My life to serve.” He kneels, his head bowed.
“And you are forgiven nan Retan.” Briefly, but long enough, his hand rests on the Retan’s head. “Tell me bizema, what do the Gaesatae feel?”
“That we are not wanted.”
“Not wanted?”
“In the city. The court. In the... thing! That Perohnin Aditu becomes.”
“That Aditu becomes? What do you mean my friend? Your words would cut the heart out of me.”
“No Sereg! A thousand deaths before I would harm you.” He seizes the Sereg’s hand, trailing from when it rested upon his head, and presses his forehead to it. “Your heart is the Gaesatae’s heart. Your soul; it’s soul.”
“But it seems my Gaesatae worry? That my brave hunters feel... Well, what do they feel nan Retan?” His hand moves from his Retan’s forehead to the shoulder, his upper arm. He brings the Retan to his feet.

“How long have we been in the North Sereg?”
“We came with Amren. Four warbands; an army to wipe these lands clean. With Lenae, Cabal...”
“And where are those war captains now Sereg? On soft beds.”
“We marched for war! Else I would never have mustered my Gaesatae. Never have roused them but for war.”
“How long Sereg? In the cold North? By ourselves!”
“Years” he mutters, maybe just to himself. “Years.”
“We are dispatched from the city Sereg. Ordered to a frontier far from our borders. A warband deserted, forgotten.”
“We are needed here Retan. A duty is ours to perform.”
“Yes nan Sereg. There is a duty here. A task that only a warband could achieve. But must it be us? For six years we have been here. Six years!”
“A warband must stand here Retan. Aditu must remain.”
“I know nan Sereg. But are we here because we are the right warband to stand here? Or because we are right warband to be absent from the city?”
“True. True nan Retan. We would not easily... fit into the new court.”
“It is the court I worry about nan Sereg! Who is the court? Why is it that the warbands who do not, as you say, fit in the court are those sent away from it? Ithir, Cabal, Y’dar. Those who would distain robes and finery. Those who would instead bear metals and glory.”

He remains silent, lost in thought. The Retan waits patiently, the need to speak now sated and past.
“We are the fortunate ones Retan.”
“Nan Sereg?”
“Consider that we may return to Aquila in weeks should we so choose. What of Y’dar?”
“Aye, the Sereg is far from home.”
“And those that travel with him. Months before they could reach home. Tal, Llofan, Shao. Even Renkin.”
“Ha! I think the city will be barred to him for...”
“None the less. Even the Great Wood is months travel away for poor Renkin.”
“It is as you say Sereg.”
“Even those left with us, Cadfan and his hunters; they may return to Aquila but not as Gaesatae. No triumphant return for Y’dar or his warband yet. No boar standard flying above blood drenched warriors as they return to the city.”
“Aye nan Sereg. When I escorted Y’dar to fair Aquila we were not received as a War Captain returning. Just another Aditu returning to the city.”
“You judge harshly Elohath. Were the Bronze Guard given more notice they would have welcomed Y’dar in a fitting manner. Anlus would have insisted on that.”
“But I worry Sereg. How will the court welcome us when we return? When you return. Ithir Achal, Sereg Amal a Perohnin Aditu. How will the court functionaries receive a son of Baradan, after years spent in the War God’s realm?”
“Ah, now I understand your concern. And I am not worried as you are.”
“No? Are my worries so childish?”
“Not at all nan Retan, but they are no longer relevant. First Daughter has roused herself from the mourning. The functionaries have been blown aside, as leaves in the face of a hurricane. The Miller’s Daughter directs the House again.”
“Why have you not told the Gaesatae this nan Sereg?”
“It is not their concern, my orders are to be followed no matter where they originate.”
“And they would be Sereg, even if you ordered us to walk unarmed and unarmoured into the halls of death. But the needless worry could have been averted.”
“Then spread this news Retan. Let the hunters know that one who knows them, one who understands them, once again directs the might of Aditu.”
“It will be as you say Sereg!”

“But Retan...”
“Yes Sereg?”
“We did not discuss this. I did not entertain your doubts. I did not soothe your fears.”
“Of course nan Sereg. Else you would not be called The Cold.”

Of Children & Crows (Part 2)

One of the robed figures standing behind Amerasu who is seated in her ornate chair moves forward: nothingis said as the First Grandmother, without looking up, reaches out her left hand. The robed figure named Hiska, takes her mistress’ hand gently in her own as they watch the three figures make their way from the garden. As the distance from them increases Hiska notes Amerasu’s grip is also increased. She looks down at her charge but knows not what to say for comfort. Instead of words she gently brings her left hand to clasp that already held by her right. Nothing more is required.

Without a word of command from Hiska the other comitati that surround Amerasu move forward instinctively. The ‘hounds’ know all is not well but they can do nothing other than remain at their mistress’ side. All that is heard is the soft mumbling of prayers from the depths of hoods as Ashan takes her place in the clear night sky surrounded by the light of stars.

* * *

Avarin is holding her child’s hand firmly and looks across to Tirandel. “All will be well”, she says quietly. Tirandel reaches down and takes the free hand of Avarin’s son as the three walk from the rose gardens.

To the north-west corner of the city, close to the summit of the Sto

ne of Farewell, are found a ring of trees that are the home of the crows. Almost four score crows nests adorn the treeline and look down upon the burial mounds of the dead that have been laid to rest here within the walls of Aquila. These barrows have a weight of history that go back to the naming of Aquila te Lunashaed and as such make a natural homing for the winged harbingers of the dead.

As the three stand at the burial mounds they look up to the tree line, which is coloured a pale silver in the rising moonlight. A large shadow rises from within the branches of the trees and takes to the night sky. As one, the crow shadow rises up from the tree line and descends upon the city and the three that stand before it in the shadowed garden of the dead.

Avarin turns to her son kneeling down in front of him: “Stay here with Tirandel my son – I will return shortly for you.”

She then steps forward approaching the stone steps that lead up to the entrance of the barrows. As she does so she lets her cloak fall from her shoulders. Beneath she is wearing a black ruffled mourning dress with a patterned laced bodice that falls gracefully around her and marks her as a widow yet also consort to the Crows.

Tirandel also lets fall her Aditu cloak revealing a more simplistic black dress of similar design without the bodice patterning, for that is reserved for the daughters of First Family as a mark of their position and placing within the House: roses entwined with stars symbolising the House and it’s goddess’ children that look down upon all Aditu.

As Avarin gracefully walks up the steps into the shadows of the barrows and trees that surround the burial grounds of the elves two crows alight upon the stone bannisters. The First Daughter of the House Aditu is also a CrowSinger and tonight is taking her place and exercising her position among these creatures of the light of the living and the shadows of those that have passed beyond the realm of life. She turns to the crow upon her right for she is named Seeker and Avarin answers to her before all others.

From Tirandel’s vantage point she observes that the crow that has claimed Avarin as her own Singer is speaking with her and Avarin is listening intently. The folds of Avarin’s dress fall to the stone steps as she gives her full attention to the words of the crow. She then turns to the second crow, sat upon the stone railings to her left, as Seeker also looks that way.

There is no mistaking the aura of this creature for he is Rauxlor – the eldest of the Crows and the one who took Navarre as his own and vice versa. Both were masters and also servants to one another for never before had such a pairing of Crow and Elf been given freely and without inhibition. Now though, only one of that partnership remains and the loss of the other is clearly showing on the one that has survived.

In comparison to Seeker, Rauxlor, despite his magnificence and clear elder status, is weary and on close inspection carries a weight of overwhelming sadness that defies anything felt by mere mortals. Jingizu, or sadness of spirit, is well known to the immortals and long lived races of the world. The Elves are masters of this melancholy which only they can also turn into a stubborn fight for survival against insurmountable emotional odds.

After a few brief moments upon the steps Avarin returns to her child and her fellow CrowSinger. Taking her son’s hand she leads him up the steps into the shadows of the Garden of the Dead of Aquila and it’s ages of legend. Tirandel follows.

The crows that reside within Aquila are all gathered within. They are sat upon the burial mounds and around the steps that lead to this shadowy place located within the city of beauty crafted by the three elder tribes of the Elves. Avarin leads her child to the place where both Seeker and Rauxlor await them.

Tirandel stands to the child’s right with her mother in front and to the left. A somber look is passed from mother to fellow crowsinger, which instigates Tirandel reaching into her belt pouch and closing her fingers around that which she has taken out. The child looks to his mother for reassurance. In return she takes a knee and gently runs her hand over her son’s face in a loving caress before then looking for Tirandel.

Avarin remains kneeling embracing her son saying “This will make it easier my love – trust us both for this will be over quickly and I and Tirandel are with you, I promise you that”.

Her fellow crowsinger then opens her hand and blows the kei-vishaaa taken from her pouch into the child’s face.

It is then that the crows descend upon the child engulfing him and his two guardians in their brooding shadow of night black wings.

Renewal 2011

Right, so, laugh.
First things first:
1) who's going?
2) when are they going?
3) What has been happening IC since last event?
d) use her as a human shield and fight your way out
5) Where, IC, are those who are not going going to be?
6) Why do whales have to be so damn big?
7) Shall we meet up for a beer beforehand (particularly for those not going)?
8) All of the above.

Of Children & Crows (Part 1)

As Arapey begins to dip behind the Towers of Old making way for her twin, Ashan – the Lady of The Night Sky, a company of elves make their way from within the stone chambers of the city into the Rose Gardens.

In the failing light a lone figure sits upon a chair. To one side is another chair and to the other side two more, all three of which are empty.

The figure looks at each chair in turn but gives no voice to thoughts. With a wave of arm attendants, robed and hooded, come to stand beside her.

At the head of the company of approaching elves is a cloaked and cowled figure walking hand in hand with a young child. She walks with purpose and a gracefulness not often seen. It marks her apart from those around her for she is Avarin, First Daughter of the House Aditu and Queen-in-Waiting to her people.

The figure sat in the chair stands to greet her daughter and moves forward to embrace her and her grandchild in one motion. Amerasu is smaller in height than Avarin. Since the loss of her two children, Lerel and Navarre, Amerasu has struggled with ill health and caused all her House great concern. She is loved by all with a respect and genuine fondness that defies words of explanation. All fear that she may give in to her grief fully and join her beloved children in the Halls of Jhokl. Yet every time she is with Avarin and the child she visibly lifts and remembrances turn to joyous moments rather than those of pain and loss.

Turning to Avarin she asks pleadingly: “Is this really the only way for us to banish the shadows that plague us so?”

“Mother” says Avarin, “I know it seems wrong but…” Avarin turns to a figure at her side, who then steps forward and from the deep blue of her cloak hood speaks:

“It is the only way Etriel, for the Crows are lost and with them the spirits of those we love are also lost upon the Crow Road unable to reach Jhokl – long have we desired they find the peace denied their bodies. Ydar’s warband have done their part; now we know we must do ours. Give us your blessing for what we must do this night under the gaze of Ashan and the Crows. If we do not then Rauxlor may well perish under his burden and Aquila will be cast into everlasting shadow. Our grieving is killing the dream.”

Upon hearing this Amerasu kneels in front of the child and places her hands upon each cheek. She smiles and kisses each cheek in turn and then the forehead.

Speaking softly she says: “I feel the night is on your side. You have nothing to fear. You are blessed by Ashan and your bloodline my dear child. Look to your mother now.”

She then rises up and returns to her chair. Avarin makes to move towards her but a single look from Amerasu stops her in her tracks. In the strengthening moonlight tears glisten upon the cheeks of both women.

The figure to Avarin’s side moves forward and gestures to the left. “All will be well First Grandmother.”

“You have my blessing Tirandel – deliver us from shadows.”

With that Avarin, the child and Tirandel leave the rose garden and the company of the elves gathered there.

Renkin's Tale

Please allow me to introduce myself. I am the mighty alchemist Renkin of House Aditu, and this is the tale of really happened at Limmer Hill.

Our story starts sometime before Y'dar's warband ever got close to Limmer Hill. I was in the Northlands, searching for the herb known as Bugle, when I came across a fort. It was nearing nightfall, and my pack animals, two sudhod'ya I called 'left' and 'right', were growing tired. Whipping them the final distance I demanded entry and accommodation within. Cowed by my elven magnificence the guards gave me entrance, and I was shown to some meagre rooms: unfortunately the best they had.

I met the lord of Limmer Hill fort at the meal that night, a sudhod'ya named Rutal, and his wife and daughter, who were both rather lovely. As I had been my usual charming self, I was of course expecting a nocturnal visit to my bedchamber from one (or both) of the two ladies. When the knock came, soon after the rise of Ashan's moon, imagine my surprise when the supplicant at my door turned out to be Rutal! This put me in somewhat of a delicate situation. He was my host, and as a guest I was obliged to be obliging. However, I found him to be crude and uncultured, and knew from my travels that he was cruel and capricious. In order to be polite, I gently prevaricated. Growing desperate and pitiful, he offered me his most valuable possessions. Wishing to be rid of him I said that I would think on his offer, and he left. Shortly after, his wife came secretly unto me.

The next day Rutal laid siege to me again, again promising me all his riches. To dissuade him I told him that such a love was forbidden in my culture. Despondent he left. That afternoon as I bathed, his maiden daughter came unto me. When she left she was maiden no longer. At dinner that evening word came that an elven warband approached and would probably attack on the morrow. After viewing their encampment from the ramparts I privately resolved to provide my kinsfolk with what help I could. I went to Rutal, and to distract him from any pre-emptive attack he might make on the warband, I said that I had relented, and invited him to my bedchamber that night.

That night he did indeed come, and I betrayed his trust and lust with a bitter kiss. Leaving him, I went to the courtyard well with certain of my herbs, so that when Y'dar and his Gaesatae attacked they faced a foe without a leader, and with barely any men well enough to fight.

The bard who composed the Ballad of Limmer Hill ignored my part, but I forgive him. His head was turned by the blud and thunder of the warband, and he knew not what he did. I only tell this story now to set the record straight, and so that you might bask in the turbulence of my magnificence.

How do you know my tale is true? Well, there are two young sobaks in the Northlands who have my eyes, but slightly more accessible is this trophy I took from Rutal's body:

2011

Now then, booking my 2011 stuff now. Not-wigan and renewal for me, even though they're both at the wrong end of the country. Not booking the thursday for the first one but will be doing for renewal.
What vet picks are people taking?

Of Crows

Crows, as a bird, are the Guardians of the Dead and so their chosen elves are somewhat different to the norm. An elf selected by a crow is named CrowSinger and they mimick the duties of the crows in life - they become the guardians of dead souls, guiding the departed to the peace of the Halls of Jhkol - the Lord of the Dead in the elven religion.

Due to the power of the crows they only select three elves from each House to act for them. Should a House lose a CrowSinger (due to violent death or jingizu / sorrow) then that House becomes blighted. An example of this being the House Velent'm and what befell them in the end - loss of their Lord and a seperation from the mainstay of the elven peoples, despite their continued close ties with the House Aditu.

CrowSingers have been called 'shamans' in other cultures.

They do not rival the Priestesses in religious rank but are often regarded with respect and perhaps a little trepidation due to the nature of their spirit guides.

The crows live together in a large colony making their nests high in the tree canopy.

In Aquila they have taken the branches of the dead trees that surround the barrows of the dead within eyesight of the Rose Gardens.

No one knows who is laid to rest within the barrows since the Fall of Aquila for few would dare enter such places. However, it is fitting for the crows to want to be close to such a place.

The head of the crows is a bird named Rauxlor. He is the head of the crow nation and has previously taken CrowSingers from multiple Houses at the same time - they are then seen to be the 'primary singers' within their House.

He is ancient even in the terms of the long lived. Some would say he knew the Mad King in his days as a youth but that may be exaggeration. More likely Rauxlor came to being at the end of the Wars of the Mad King, for he would have found much work in seeing dead souls to their resting place that would tire even a supernatural being and the suspicion is he fled the Garden on one of the ships and then came into his own at the founding of the nine cities.

Rauxlor now reigns over a large murder of crows and has chosen to now reside with his kin who watch over Aditu in Aquila.

Although only three crows name a CrowSinger there are a great many crows within the murder, for they are a collective. A community of birds just as in nature.

Rauxlor took Navarre,

Seeker has taken Avarin after the death of Amiel-Has at the end of the War of the Returning and Shadow has taken Tirandel (the longest serving singer to the crows currently).

Rauxlor is now grooming his replacement Singer, suspected to be the son of Avarin and Navarre to ensure a continuing strong tie to the House Aditu.

Seeker is young in comparison to her own lord Rauxlor and known to be among the more vicious of the crow colony. The balance of Rauxlor and Shadow keep her in check.

Rauxlor is a wise elder being that considers before acting but will not stray from a harsh course if it is required.

Little is known of Shadow for Tirandel is a more solitary figure (outside of her fellow CrowSingers) and this is reflected in her spirit guide also.

It has been known for the three named crows to appear to others who are not CrowSingers. This is extremely rare.

When this happens they take on a larger form than their normal size in the eyes of those who behold them. They are also very vocal speaking directly to their audience, lacking patience and animated, to the point of seeming agitated.

A CrowSinger would see them in normal size when conversing and much calmer - something they do frequently with their chosen ones - for they are more attuned to the birds than non CrowSingers.

Since the Returning the crows watching over House Aditu have taken up residence in Aquila as described.

Since the fall of the five lords in 1107 they have constantly cast a shadow over the city by taking to the skies on a daily basis circling above the Rose Gardens and the three ancient towers.

Any that visit the crow's nests find a disturbing sense fall upon them that makes them uncomfortable and their visit to the barrows short.

At the time of the year 1110 the crow shadow has started to diminish slightly with the birds favouring their nests to the day's skies and adopting a more usual pattern of their existence.

The 'Crow Road' is the term used for the passing of an elf's spirit immediately following their death to the Halls of the Dead.

It is a spiritual journey but also a physical one for the crows who actually are believed to escort the souls of the dead.

Their CrowSingers aid this transition from the mortal plane of being by conducting rites and rituals. If it is deemed that a soul has not completed the Crow Road journey then they are considered to have been lost to darkness and will never find peace.

Ydar at court

Folks, just been reading the Ydar in Aquila stuff, i'm not going to post it as a blog entry because it's too damn long for that so I've sent it to Alan for hosting and then i'll stick it in the background section.
Having read it, the following questions are raised:
What is the crow shadow?
Who is Lassal?
Who is Rauxlor?
Who is Seeker?
What is a Skywatcher?
Who is Tirendel?
Where are Jakob’s royalties?
“key was long since lost to our peoples but only when the Voice came to her door” So when was the key taken? Before the fall? During the time of Jao? Or previous to that? What is the timeline here?
And finally, have you cunts never heard of speech marks? That’s before I get started on the use of “myself" instead of "I"...

Elf song when ranging far from home

I love the stars so fondly;

I will never be fearful of the night.

The nature of the Sithi - part 2

Following a prompt on the first discussion i have managed to find the file. So what follows is a write up of a discussion, this probably needs some picking to pieces before we formalise any of it.

Elven race:
All long lived people lived in the Garden. The races were separated and distinguished by their study of and relationship to the shadows they had been created by the Gods to study. Over the tens of thousands of years the different groups took on different characteristics (both physical and behavioural) based upon this. Light elves studied the shadows in the blazing light of day and cold light of night, deep elves went to the dark places (and then began making their own dark places) to study shadows in their own environment and controlling the light that was present. Drow meanwhile sought (and gained) a closer relationship with the shadows, mimicking them and living with/alongside them. However these peoples did not think of themselves as races as such as their first allegiance, overwhelming all others, was to their holds. Now some holds were predominately of one branch of long-lived whilst others were a more balanced mix. All however had a mix. We know that during the wars of unbeing several large distinct groups left and founded the various cities. All of these groups were made up of “Sithi-lebn-schel-n’kenamal” (or some such long winded untranslatable gibberish) which in the tongue of the Garden mean “Those people who lived in the time of complete dying” – ie those who were living during the 40,000 year long war of unbeing. By the time of Aquila’s hey-day they were just called Sithi “The people”. We do not know what happened to the other cities (apart from K’s story of one of them and my reference to a smaller very northern one overrun at the start of the usurper war) and the racial make up of them. Those groups who left the Garden before the war of unbeing (for a variety of reasons) were called different things and we believe these are the other long lived peoples out there in the world. Since they left so very very very long ago – their memories/histories have become irrevocably distorted from our own (though maybe almost still true through the prism of their own experiences).

Once the final refugees reached the known world the holds of old were intentionally pulled apart. The idea of the holds was now a repulsive idea. That one group of people would utterly annihilate another was blamed upon the allegiances to holds above all else (after all, 2 million members of Hold Thennict were killed in one magical assault so there was evidence to back up this hatred – on a related note, Drew, do you remember me saying there was a 2-card reading in the deck called “Elegy of the Thennict”? This, obviously, is where it comes from). The Lords of the Holds had possessed too much power, able to command armies of millions and wield horrific powers. Most had died during the war – especially since we are talking about the loosing side here – and those that survived quickly surrendered their powers at the demand of the mob. This transition though was a peaceful one – everyone wanted an end to slaughter. This is turn led to the concept and realisation of the issue of Jingizu. Finally able to stop fighting for the first time in millennia, the Sithi were able to let loose their grief and mourn. Such was the power of this release that it became a thing in it’s own right and all Sithi were pulled to the depths of suicidal despair. Realising the risk of the race effectively willing itself to die, the gods strengthened their chosen and sent them out to preach their message. They explained how these Sithi had chosen to forsake the evils of the Garden and would thus be allowed to live without the Jingizu (and presumably gloat about the fact that the ones who followed the King were still suffering) and would only suffer it if another Sithi died at their hands. Then they would not suffer the guilt of killing one but the same grief that those who had killed thousands felt.
All people define themselves by some form of grouping, without the regime of holds to define them the Sithi began to split along their racial lines instead. They were all still Sithi but each branch now called themselves after their racial line too. The Children of the Dawn, Deep, Shadows etc. However all seemed well in the city but tensions were beginning to build as the prize was that much smaller (eg control of a single city rather than the world) and therefore could only provide power/wealth/luxury to a limited number. As Ineluki was definitely a light elf it was very much the Zideya who were perceived to rule the city. This was not resented very much by the deep elves for they remained underground but the drow began to feel they were slighted and trapped between the two other Sithi races with no-where to call their own. They began to call themselves the Drow to distinguish themselves from the rest of the Sithi and offers of senior positions in the city hierarchy were rejected to perpetuate the sense of victim-hood. The true level of their disconnect and separation from the Sithi was only realised by a terrible act that should have been more terrible still. Fin Gorrel was a Sithi judge who presided over a court that found a drow guity of arson and sentenced him to be banished. The drow refused and challenged Fin Gorrel to trial by arms to prove his innocence. The law, unchanged for thousands of years, allowed for this but only until first blood; the drow however, clearly had more deadly intent. Fin Gorrel accepted the challenge, though his reasons for doing so remain obscure, and in the ensuing fight, forced to defend himself to his full abilities in the face of the Drow’s murderous assault, his sword found the Drows heart and Fin Gorrel fell to his knees as the guilt came crashing in. This was not the jingizu of the gods warning though – merely guilt for a life wasted. The Drow had removed themselves from the Sithi to such an extent that the gods and the power of the jingizu no longer regarded them as kin. Did the Drow know this before the challenge? Was the now dead Drow there to prove this point or merely die by blade or grief to prove the Drow claim of being victims? We do not know but the Lay of Fin Gorrel has become a powerful ritual. A stylised fight before actual combat between Sithi that follows the movements and killing strike of Fin Gorrel. By the power of the ritual, or by the power suggested by the ritual, Sithi are able to enter a state where the killing of another Sithi is seen as justified and thus the victor suffers no grief.

This ultimately meant that by the time of the fall the two races, Sithi and Drow, could kill each other with impunity. Though they may have lamented the fact that long-lived fought long-lived whilst mortals ripped down their city, they did not hesitate to turn their blades upon each other.